


Sherlollipops - The Secrets That You Keep

by MizJoely



Series: 221 Sherlollipops [171]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6608020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anonymous asked: If you're still taking requests, how bout 23. things you said when you were asleep/sleeptalking? Sherlolly, of course~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlollipops - The Secrets That You Keep

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T for implied sexytimes at the end. And if you think I wasn't humming "Talking In Your Sleep" by 80s band The Romantics while I wrote this, you'd be totally wrong (in fact, the title comes from that very song). Enjoy, and thanks as always for taking the time to read and review!

“…love…mmmph…Molly.”

Molly went very still, although her heart - her foolish, foolish heart - was pounding in her chest. Just because he’d mumbled something like that in his sleep didn’t mean he actually loved her. No, more likely he was telling his dream-Molly ( _oh, wasn’t it lovely that he actually had dreams about her!_ ) that he loved the bagful of toes she’d brought him or something.

She sighed quietly and shifted onto her side, facing away from the sleeping consulting detective. He was using her flat as a bolthole again, now that he’d gotten himself clean after solving the fauxriarty case. It had been the only condition she’d set for allowing him back into her life outside of work, and he’d been scrupulous about keeping his word. Of course, the thrice-weekly piss tests she and John performed at Mycroft’s behest might have something to do with his cooperation, but he’d also voluntarily checked himself into rehab, so she had hopes that this time his sobriety would stick.

He continued to mumble in his sleep, and she did her best to ignore him, but the way he kept sighing and saying her name, sounding so happy, meant that the only way she would be able to succeed would be to go sleep in her spare room. As she’d originally intended to do, only Sherlock had insisted she not give up her bed for him, no matter how knackered he was. “I don’t toss and turn, Molly, and I don’t snore, so there’s no reason for us not to share,” he’d said, and she’d agreed, against her better judgement.

Of course, her better judgement was in very short supply where Sherlock was concerned and always had been. She shook her head very gently and puffed out a breath in annoyance. Not at him, but at herself. She was nobody’s doormat, even if she’d once been so head over heels infatuated with him that she’d let his false compliments sway her into doing him favors, but that was long in the past. At least now she knew he respected and trusted her, that he was comfortable with her the way he was with very few others - John and Mary Watson sprang to mind.

She grinned at the thought of him demanding to sleep in their bed when he needed to get away from his own thoughts and empty flat, imagining the pout he’d wear when John told him no and Mary pointed out that the only third person allowed in their bed was baby Lizzie. A small giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it and she froze, holding her breath as she waited to see if Sherlock would wake up and demand to know what was so funny.

Thankfully he remained asleep, still mumbling her name now and then. Eventually it soothed her to sleep, and she dropped into slumber with a soft smile on her lips.

The next morning he was up before she was, not surprising since it was her day off and well after nine before she rose. She threw on her dressing gown and wandered into the kitchen, finding him, as expected, nosing about on her laptop. “You don know I don’t keep anything vitally secret on that one, right?” she threw over her shoulder as she made her way to the coffee pot. Mmm, he’d used the fancy Hawaiian blend she’d got from Meena for her birthday, exactly what she was in the mood for this morning.

“No, the only vital secrets your keep are while you’re sleeping, apparently,” he said without looking up.

Molly froze half-way to grabbing a coffee mug, turning her head slowly to stare at him. “I don’t…what are you talking about?” she demanded, pulling her hand back down in order to fold her arms defensively across her chest. Oh lord, had SHE been sleep-talking as well?!?

Apparently the answer to that question was ‘yes’, much to her mortification. “You kept asking me if I meant it,” Sherlock said. He finally looked up from her laptop, closing it with a soft ‘click’ as he rose to his feet. Molly stood frozen by the counter, staring at him as he moved closer. He stopped well within her personal space and peered down at her. “I even asked you what it was you thought I’d said, that you needed the answer to so desperately.”

“Um, what did I say? Did I say anything? Anything that made sense?” Molly asked nervously.

“Hmm, yes, you did, actually,” Sherlock replied. Lord, was he moving closer or was her sense of perspective just off?

She tried a small laugh that came out very feeble indeed. “Well, um, that’s…O-of course, we all say things in our sleep we don’t mean…”

“I don’t,” Sherlock said concisely. “When I said I love you, Molly, I meant it. Every word. And when I told you while you were sleeping…” He reached out and stroked a finger along her jaw, the soft touch setting off every nerve in her body. “When I told you that yes, I meant it,” he said, leaning forward and speaking softly into her ear, “you said…’Good thing, you git or I’d slug you one’.”

He grinned at her outraged gasp. “I did not!” she exclaimed.

He nodded. “Oh yes, you most certainly did! Next time I’ll be sure to make a recording if you need proof.”

Molly’s brain finally got past her indignation and registered the fact that a wide-awake Sherlock had just admitted that he loved her. “You love me,” she said dazedly. “Like, love-love me? In more than just a friend’s way?”

“In a, ‘I’d really like to spend the rest of my life shagging you senseless and probably getting married and having children together’ sort of way,” he confessed, finally putting his arms around her. She unfolded her from her chest in order to put her hands around his neck, fully aware that she was grinning like an idiot - and not caring in the least.

After thoroughly kissing him, she whispered in his ear, “Well then, Mr. Holmes, how about we get started on part one of that lovely description of our future, shall we?”

She had to smother a giggle at the eager way he swept her into his arms and practically dashed back to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

She couldn’t restrain her mirth, however, when he had to stop undressing her long enough to pick up Toby from his perch on her dresser and deposit him on the other side of the door, shutting it firmly in her outraged feline’s face.

After that was taken care of, Sherlock made very certain that she was far too busy moaning his name to giggle over anything for a very long, very satisfying time.

She’d never been so happy to discover she talked in her sleep in her life!


End file.
